All That Remains
by jtav
Summary: "Do me a favor? Keep an eye on Oriana for me?" Many people have died under Lawrence Shepard's command, but only one haunts him. All that remains is to honor her last wish. What he didn't bargain for was love. That and Miranda's return from the grave.
1. Chapter 1

_ME3 spoilers._ _This replaces Ghost in the Machine and Queen's Gambit. Gambit is reproduced in its entirety. Since I have no hope of finishing this before March, fair warning that this is not so much AU as a loose adaptation of some things I found in the leak. Some of the same things happen, but at different times__, in different ways, and with different outcomes._

_Shepard_

The hard part was never sending men to their deaths. You got used to that or you ended up Cat Six. The only reason they made me a Spectre was that I had sent men to their deaths on Torfan. They could call me a butcher if they wanted, but millions of colonists can sleep soundly in their beds because I made the squints too scared to do anything but nibble around the edges of the Traverse. When any marine swore the Oath of Service, we swore to give our lives in defense of the Alliance and humanity. I'd doomed the Council and ten thousand others to death because billions would die if Sovereign wasn't stopped. So, no, I didn't mind letting people die.

I minded when it accomplished absolutely nothing.

Hackett's voice was grave. "We're scrapping Project Persephone. We need every available hand to build this Crucible, and it'll take years to even figure out how to build a prototype of those Collector weapons. I'm sorry, Commander. It's just not an efficient allocation of resources."

"You're telling me that the data I got from the Collector base was useless?"

"We'll keep the data on hand, and maybe something will feed into our Plan B if the Crucible fails." The unspoken _Of course, if the Crucible fails, we're all dead anyway_ hung in the air between us. The rest of the conversation was a blur. Hackett said things, and I responded, but I couldn't tell you what we said if my life depended on it. The sound of groaning metal and distant gunfire filled my ears. My ghosts called for me.

The call ended, and I slumped against the comm. My squad had died for nothing. No, correction. Miranda had died for nothing. The others had already been dead when I made the choice. My muscles clenched and I felt like an assault rifle about to overheat. The sound of groaning metal grew louder, but this time there was a scream to go with it. Ever since Torfan, sometimes my brain wanted to remember things whether I did or not. I'd learned to pick my battles. If I fought it now, maybe I couldn't fight it later when I was under fire. So I let memory take over.

_The Illusive Man was the only guy I knew who could look smug even in a hologram. "Shepard, you've done the impossible. The Collector Base is ours."_

_"Still have to blow it up." Behind me, Tali primed the charges._

_"That won't be necessary. A radiation pulse could eliminate the Collectors but leave the base and its technology intact. This is our chance to use the Reapers technology against them. Think of the potential!"_

_He was right and I hated him for it. The Collectors had been trading their technology in exchange for specimens for almost as long as there had been a Citadel. But here was a chance to take their tech on our terms and not on whatever schedule they—and the Reapers—had. We could reverse-engineer it to make weapons that actually stood a chance against the Reapers. And all I had to do was hand the base over to Cerberus. Hell, I didn't even have to hand it over. EDI had already passed the IFF to the Illusive Man. If I knew him, he would have a team here inside of a day. All I had to do was leave the base intact._

_And commit treason. The Illusive Man talked a good game, but I'd seen what happened on Chasca and the aftermath of Teltin: dozens tortured or turned into husks in the name of "human advancement." And Kahoku had put his ass on the line for me when the politicians had been calling for my head after Torfan. No, no way in hell was the Illusive Man getting his hands on Reaper tech. __"__The potential to get indoctrinated or the potential to oppress other species? I know exactly what will happen if Cerberus gets its hands on this technology."_

_His eyes glowed a furious blue. "I didn't discard you. Don't be so quick to discard me. Only Cerberus can win this war and assure humanity's triumph."_

_"Domination, you mean. You want what you've always wanted. Power. Tali, activate the timer. Thirty minutes Legion, lose this channel." The Illusive Man vanished, and I was free. Well, mostly. The crew had been dead by the time I got to the base, and Jacob had taken a Collector bullet to the head, but I doubted Miranda would be happy to hear I'd told her boss to go to hell. I'd deal with that problem when and if I had to. Hopefully I wouldn't have to. We had all had enough death for one day._

_My mind raced. I couldn't let the Illusive Man get his hands on whatever this base contained. That didn't mean I had to completely throw away everything this base might hold. "I want you two to scan everything you can. EDI, you too." It wouldn't be as valuable to the Alliance as an intact base, but it was something._

_Tali and I took the path to the left. Legion, the one to the right. Collector architecture gave me the creeps. The walls seemed to press in at odd angles. If I stopped, I'd hear whispers in my head. So, I didn't stop. Anything and everything Tali and I could lay our hands on was fair game: weapons, consoles, the processing tubes._

_A console beeped nearby. "Keelah," Tali whispered._

_"What is it?"_

_"I'm not sure. Plans for some kind of heavy weapon, maybe? Looks like it was designed to take down dreadnoughts."_

_I barely refrained from rubbing my hands in glee. "Upload it. Be nice to give the bastards a taste of their own medicine." _

"_Shepard! Do you read me?" Miranda's voice cut into my headset like a knife. "They're swarming all over us. I think I'm the only one left. We need to evac!"Gunfire sounded somewhere far away, mixed with hiss and pop of static._

_Great. Just great. "We'll be there as soon as we can. Fall—"_

_"Shepard." EDI's voice was cold and implacable. "According to my scans of the life signs in this base, Operative Lawson is currently holding off several dozen Collectors. There is a high probability that they would make for your position should she withdraw."_

_And overwhelm Tali. I'd lose the plans for the weapon and whatever data she had already collected. And Miranda would probably die if I didn't tell her to withdraw. Virmire all over again. Except one choice could save data that made the difference between victory and defeat. If this had been a vid, I'd have agonized over the decision for minutes. If this had been a vid, there would have been a way to save both. But real life meant making the hard choices and making them quickly. "Hold your position, Lawson. We can't afford to lose this data."_

"_Understood." Miranda's voice was like glass. "Do me a favor, Commander? Keep an eye on Oriana for me?"_

_"Of course." Now it was my voice that cracked. Miranda and I had never gotten along. The whole "wanting to put a control chip in my head and working for terrorist organization" thing had destroyed any hope that we could ever be friends, but she had still been my executive officer. I killed people for a living and did the dirty jobs so the rest of the galaxy could sleep at night. All the more important to know where the lines were. If you sent someone under your command to her death, that last request was sacred. "I'll keep her safe."_

_"Thank you."_

And it had all been for nothing. Cerberus had salvaged tech from the ruins of the base anyway, and the Alliance couldn't make heads or tails of what I had dumped into their laps. Hysterical, wasn't it?

"Are you okay, sir?"

I looked up to find Traynor staring at me. Samantha Traynor was my comm specialist and a civilian. It hadn't been my idea to bring her aboard—this was a military ship, dammit—but even I had to admit she was good at her job. And she was a lot less annoying than the other civilian we had on board. "I'm fine. What do you want?"

Traynor had the good grace to look embarrassed. "Ms. Allers wanted to know if you'd reconsidered her request for an interview?"

Speaking of that other civilian… I didn't know what possessed the brass to embed a reporter on the _Normandy. _ They told me it could help keep civilian morale up, but there are a lot of things that it's better the public not know. And I'd never liked talking to them. The lights were always too hot, and the words stuck in my throat. The first time al-Jilanni interviewed me, I'd made a complete idiot of myself. In front of my men I was fine, but I turned into a gibbering, stuttering idiot in front of the camera. The second time I'd completely lost it and punched her. I wasn't sure which was the bigger failure. "When hell freezes over, Ms. Traynor."

"I'll just tell her 'no, for now,' shall I?"

"Good girl."

My cabin had been transformed into a miniature war room. A map of the galaxy dominated one wall. Worlds still controlled by the Alliance and its allies were in blue. Systems lost to the Reapers were in red. Cerberus-controlled worlds were in orange. Those controlled by pirates and other people who weren't our friends but did value their own necks were in green. There was way too much red and orange on the map.

It was Cerberus that I hated the most. The Reapers were forces of nature. I couldn't hate them anymore than I could hate and an earthquake. I always knew the Illusive Man would stab me in the back someday, but I'd counted on him still wanting a galaxy to dominate. Instead, he was best buddies with the Reapers, or at least acting like it. A Cerberus assassin had nearly killed Kaidan back on Mars. God only knew when he'd be cleared for duty. But mostly I hated Cerberus because we were having to spend time, money, and manpower to fight them instead of the Reapers. I hated them for wasting my time. And for wasting lives.

And then there was the terminal. Everything I'd managed to scrape together for the war effort—from the radar station I'd liberated from a band of mercs to a former C-Sec agent I'd talked into enlisting—were there in neat little charts and graphs. There wasn't nearly enough. The krogan had taken their ball and gone home when I wouldn't give them the genophage cure they wanted. They wouldn't support the war effort unless I gave them their cure. The salarians wouldn't support me if I did. Fucking stupid of them, fighting over that when the Reapers wanted to kill us all. Fucking stupid of Anderson and the Council, sending me to rally the troops. I shot things. I was really good at shooting things. Kidnapping, too, when the Alliance needed me. Just not dealing with people.

"Shepard, can I see you for a moment?" Liara's voice was tired, with a low throb, as if someone had scraped her throat raw.

"Yes."

Liara's skin had paled to the color of a robin's egg, and the whites of her eyes were tinged with a faint violet. Either she was exhausted enough for her eyes to be bloodshot or she'd been crying. Or both. It seemed impolite to ask. She had saved my body, but it was Garrus, Tali, and Thane that had been my friends. I didn't think we'd ever said three words to each other that weren't about the current mission or her hunt for the Shadow Broker.

"I assume you've heard of Sanctuary," she said without preamble.

"The refugee camp set up on Horizon? There were ads all over the Citadel."

"Well, every week it receives medical supplies from New Dawn Pharmaceuticals and the Milky Way Foundation. Free supplies. There are also an unusually large number of transmissions coming in over a secure channel, though what that channel is changes frequently."

"So, we have a refugee camp getting free supplies from two Cerberus fronts and somebody there is sending out coded messages? Yep, that sounds suspicious. I'll tell Joker to set a course." I barely resisted rubbing my hands in glee. This could be my chance to find a lead on the illusive bastard, blow his traitorous head off, and finally be able to focus on the real threat.

"There is one other thing." Her voice cracked almost imperceptibly. "Henry Lawson is the primary benefactor of Sanctuary, and he's set up his headquarters there."

"Miranda's father?" As distant as Miranda and I had been, we were in full agreement about her father. It was one thing to kidnap a target so you could interrogate or eliminate them. It was another thing to kidnap a grown woman so you could control her. "Something tells me he isn't doing this out of the goodness of his heart. If we're lucky, we can interrogate him. Thanks, Liara."

"If you want to thank me, let me be there when you take him in. I'd ask you to let my people handle the interrogation, but I suppose that might be too much to ask for. But I want to see that bastard taken down." Her voice was quiet, but a muscle in her jaw twitched.

My eyebrows shot up. I could count on one hand the number of times I'd heard Liara swear even that mildly. "Something I should know?"

"Sorry… personal matter.

Liara. Personal matter. Uh-oh. "Lawson didn't try to steal my body and sell it to the Collectors or anything, did he?"

Liara laughed the tight and brittle laugh of someone trying not to cry. "You're closer to the truth than you realize." She dropped her head and didn't speak for a long time. "What's the harm? She's dead now," she muttered. "Did you ever wonder exactly how I became such a good information broker in two years?"

"If I remember right, you said it wasn't that different from archaeology. Except that the bodies stink." I hadn't been inclined to press further. For all I knew, asari maidens were compelled to make drastic career changes every fifty years.

"Heh. I had to save Feron just like I had to save you. I don't know how it is for humans, but asari take saving someone's life very seriously. Unfortunately, I may have been a bit… vocal about my plans before leaving Lazarus Station. Miranda heard about it, and called me a fool. She did everything she could to dissuade me, but I was set on my course. So, she gave me her e-mail address so she could offer assistance so I 'wouldn't be torn to bloody pieces within a week.' She taught me how to hack a security system, launder money, and navigate Ilium bureaucracy."

Liara's voice changed, becoming soft and wistful. "Six months in, our conversations became more personal. It was gradual at first. She would tell me about a mission she had been on that was similar to my current job or I would reminisce about my university days. She introduced me to Earth classical music. I know you thought she was cold. I did too, at first. But she was something familiar in a place where everyone could betray me at any moment. And she could be enthralling when discussing something she was passionate about. She painted me a picture of a world where what was done for you could be done for anyone and where humanity synthesized the best traits from every race."

She turned away. "By the time a year had gone by, I was one of the most powerful people in Nos Astra. I scarcely needed Miranda's advice, but we kept talking. Sometimes for hours. She barely spoke of her father, but enough slipped through to give me an inkling of the hell her childhood must have been." Liara took a deep breath. "So, I want to see him get his just desserts."

The dots were all there, but my brain refused to connect them. "Some kind of payment for Miranda teaching you?"

"More than that. I—we—fell in love. It slipped up on me so gradually that I didn't even realize what it was until a few weeks before you woke up. Miranda asked me to keep it a secret. She was afraid it could prove a danger to one or both of us." She laughed again, but it came out more like a sob. "We had a few days together in Nos Astra and a few more after I killed the yahg. Less than two weeks altogether, I think. Strange that it should have affected me so much."

And suddenly dozens of small oddities made sense. Ms. "The Mission Comes First" taking time out to hunt down the Observer. The horrified look on Liara's face when the yahg hit Miranda with that desk. Miranda's astonishing cheerfulness afterward. And I hadn't had a clue. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Would it have made a difference?"

Would it have made a difference? Would I have hesitated before leaving Miranda to her death? Could that particular waste of human life have been avoided? Maybe I would have felt like I owed it to Liara to bring her girlfriend back alive. Or maybe my sense of the mission would have overrode everything else. "I don't know." She deserved honesty, at least.

Liara turned back to me, her eyes dull and haunted. "Sometimes I wish I had failed to recover you. Stupid, I know. But the trouble with miracles is that you start expecting them. I keep half-hoping she'll get a Lazarus Project of her own. And then I remember how many billions of credits yours cost and how close you were to unsalvageable. I don't even know if there's anything to salvage. But I can't stop hoping, and I hate myself for it."

I didn't say anything. What did you say to something like that? I couldn't bring Miranda back. I couldn't even make her death matter. All I could offer was violence. "Do you think she would have wanted Lawson dead?"

Liara blinked at me. "I know she hated him and that she lived in terror of him discovering Oriana."

My jaw set. "Then I'll make sure he never bothers Oriana again." A bullet to the head was all it would take. My debt to Miranda would be discharged. And perhaps her ghost would leave both of us alone.

_Oriana_

On the other side of the glass, a man was dying. The shielding separating Henry Law—my father's, excuse me—office from the rest of Sanctuary blocked out the sound, but I knew he was screaming. Everyone screamed when they were lowered onto the spikes. The notes back to whoever was making my father do this said that it took seven minutes for people to stop struggling, and a few hours for them to be turned into something called a Centurion candidate. Father didn't call it dying. But what else is it when frightened humans suddenly emerge with no fear, no will, and glowing orbs where the eyes used to be?

The computer beeped, and I managed to tear my eyes away. I was stuck here with my monster of a biological father. There were armed guards everywhere. I was a lot stronger and faster than most people. The one nice thing Father did for me was explain exactly how and why I'd always aced everything without even trying. That didn't mean I could escape. Commando training beat super-genetics, whatever Father said. I wasn't going to be completely useless, though. I was copying every scrap of data I could find. When I had enough, I'd try to make a run for the comm tower and broadcast to someone. There was no way the Lawson trillions could cover this up once news got out.

This time, the file was mostly technical data comparing red sand to adrenaline as a means to break the subject's resistance. It was dry as dust, but I figured I needed hard facts if people like Emily Wong were going to believe me. I'd never had much interest in biology, so I didn't really understand it. I bet Miranda would have understood it. I bet she could have done more than watch as people were tortured to death.

I finished the upload and peeked out the door. No guards. Good. It was only a few doors down to my room/cell. Give Father credit: he knew how to decorate. Silk sheets, mahogany furniture, books made of real paper. Everything I could have wanted. Next time, I'd specify I wanted to be pampered without being kidnapped.

Father arrived precisely at five. He always arrived precisely at five. For the first week I was here, I refused to believe him when he said he was my biological father and that a sister I hadn't even known existed had kidnapped me when I was a baby. But we looked way too much alike with our strong jaws and blue-grey eyes. We even scowled the same way. He was scowling now, and he carried a rectangular box under one arm.

"Oriana," he said, his voice as crisp and cold as snow.

I met his gaze. Whatever I did, I couldn't show him how scared I was. "Father."

He lifted the box, and I saw that it was a chess set. "Do you play?"

"Yes." No need to volunteer that the last time had been five years ago. That would just make him angry. I had to keep him happy or it might be me on the spike next.

The scowl softened the tiniest fraction. "Good. I was afraid you were taught nothing of proper human culture on Ilium. The asari think they're advanced, but they're merely decadent. Chess sharpens the mind, teaches you to anticipate and deal with threats. Miranda was playing by the time she was a toddler." He said her name like he was spitting out rotten food.

"Really?" If I paid attention to him at all, it was only to learn more about Miranda. She'd taken me from home, and put me with the best parents in the world. She'd taken down a squad of mercenaries the night I moved from Ilium to keep me away from the man in front of me, but she'd never given me a clue that she existed. It seemed like something out of a story: my own personal guardian angel. What kind of person did stuff like that? Henry Lawson was the only one who could tell me. "Was she good?"

"She was middling. Miranda never quite met my expectations. You were the crown jewel." He sat up the pieces, black for me and white for him, as he talked. "And she wanted you to squander your potential. Give you a normal life?" He made a contemptuous noise in the back of his throat. "It's adversity that hones your skills, not comfort. I'm going to correct the damage she did to you. Starting now. It's more difficult to play as black. Defeat me, and I'll grant you limited extranet access. Lose, and I'll take away your books."

Extranet access. There would be filters, but I'd always been really good with computers. I could figure a way around them. This could be my chance to get the word out about Sanctuary.

Father didn't wait for an answer. He moved king's pawn forward two spaces. "Your move."

It was a funny feeling, having to win and not just wanting to. All my life, I'd excelled because I could. It had never really mattered until now. I looked down at the chessboard. Would Father be aggressive or cautious? His face was a mask. It was always a mask. Even the torture outside didn't seem to bother him. No wonder Miranda had run away.

I moved my king's bishop's pawn forward two spaces. My dad-my real dad—played against me sometimes when I was trying to learn the game. He always made that first move when he played black. It seemed like a good thing to do to honor him. God, I hoped he and Mom were okay.

Father's lips thinned. "Sicilian defense. Not a bad opening when you're dealing with an untested opponent. Far from optimal, however. You should be able to size me up and predict what kind of player I am. Even Miranda could do that. Whatever her failings, she was very good at reading others. But far too idealistic, in the end. Getting herself killed for a bunch of mongrels without the ability to protect themselves."

And that was too much. "People. She died to protect people." Details were hard to come by, but I knew she had something to do with stopping the Terminus colonies from disappearing. I wondered if she knew or cared that I had wanted to go into colony development before all this happened. There was an enormous galaxy out there just waiting to be explored. Earth was too crowded, too much under control of men like Father. The Alliance and the Council were good, but sometimes their rules got in the way of helping people. I couldn't blame the colonists for leaving. And my big sister had given her life to see that they kept theirs.

"Mongrels. Those too weak to protect themselves should die. You don't see gazelles trying to protect the sick members of the herd when the lion comes around. It's the same with humans."

_Is that what you're doing? Culling the herd?_ Even here, I heard stories about what the Reapers were doing to the rest of the galaxy. Billions dead and who knew how many more living in misery. And my father wasn't helping. He was making it worse, offering these people false hope and then torturing and killing them for no reason I could find. It was one thing when geth or unknowable monsters did it. But people? My biological father?

Miranda would have been able to do something, maybe kill him and shut this place down. I was no good at fighting or being a spy or whatever it was that she actually did. All I could do was steal information and hope I could pass it along to someone who could do something useful with it. And play chess for a chance to do even that much. But I'd play because it was what I could do to save these people.

I moved my knight and hoped Miranda was proud of me, wherever she was.


	2. Chapter 2

_Trigger warnings: indoctrination, thoughts of suicide_

* * *

><p><em>Miranda<em>

I awoke in Hell. Pain flooded my veins like lava, and cold metal scraped against my wrists and ankles. A cacophony of voices rang in my ears. I screwed my eyes shut against a harsh light. Memories threaded through me, filling holes in my mind.

_The baby was soft and warm in my arms. Her hair was already thick and dark like mine. No, I mustn't make comparisons, mustn't get attached. This child would never know me or the harsh and bloody life I lead. Her world would be filled with birthday parties, school dances, and dozens of other ordinary milestones. And my father had been right about one thing: there was no place for me in the ordinary world._

_But then she opened her eyes and smiled, and I was lost._

_The thing on the slab resembled a piece of meat more than it did a human man. The rational part of my brain insisted there was no way to restore him to life. But doing the impossible was what I was for. I would take this inert lump of flesh and transform it back into a human being like an alchemist of old. This would be my legacy to the galaxy, but Shepard wouldn't exist for my selfish pleasure. This gift would be shared with all mankind._

_Liara's arms encircled my waist as she pulled me against her. The scent of mint filled my nostrils as she kissed along my neck and shoulder. I ought to push her away. My focus should be on the Collectors. But I couldn't move. It felt too good, knowing that the woman who wormed her way into my mind and heart on Omega somehow wanted me as much as I wanted her. It couldn't last. It never lasted. But I was too selfish to care._

_Collector bullets whizzed above me. Around me were the bodies of people I had never liked but who were my comrades in arms all the same. I was going to die here. But it didn't matter. All that mattered was making sure Shepard got the data he needed. The air smelled of smoke and death. At least the colonies would be safe. I would die as I had lived: in service to humanity. And I would die bravely. Two ammo blocks left. There was nothing left to do except see how many of these bastards I could take with me._

"I told you to dim the lights. Too much sensory input isn't good for her." The voice was stern, a schoolmaster's voice.

Where was I? Why wasn't I dead? My chances of surviving the Collector onslaught were nil. Another Lazarus? The pain made it difficult to think clearly.

"Will it impact the procedure?" This voice was more familiar. Male. Hostile. Someone I hated who wasn't worthy to lick my boots.

"No, Mr. Leng. It's merely quite painful."

Leng? Kai Leng. A brute occasionally useful for assassinations, but also a bloodthirsty xenophobe. He was everything I wasn't and everything Cerberus wasn't. If he were here, it was nothing good for me. I forced my eyes open. Even that much movement seemed to take monumental effort.

What little I could see of the room was white and sterile. A Cerberus logo was painted on the wall. Machinery beeped somewhere nearby while people moved just outside my field of vision. So it was another Lazarus Station, was it? Except something was wrong. My wrists and ankles were bound. I had never physically restrained Shepard even after he woke up prematurely. It would have damaged the still-healing skin. What was going on?

A man stepped into view, blotting out the harsh light. At least, I think it was a man. Silver tendrils of some unknown material snaked over his arms, and his eyes glowed with blue light like a husk's. But husks didn't smile. They certainly didn't smirk.

"Welcome back to the land of the living, sweetheart," the creature said with Leng's voice. "Don't worry. I won't keep you long. I have to make sure our newest cell leader is up to scratch, and you have a busy day ahead of you."

Busy day? My skin prickled. Something was very wrong here. I had to get away. I thrashed weakly, my skin scraping against my restraints.

Leng didn't seem to notice. "I just wanted you to know what it cost us to bring you back. Four times as expensive as Shepard, but at least it only took us six months. I wouldn't have bothered. You're good, but you aren't that good. But a deal is a deal. Lawson wanted both his daughters returned to him, and money doesn't grow on trees."

No. The Illusive Man would never make a deal with my father. That was the bargain I had made twenty years ago. My service in exchange for Oriana's safety. The Illusive Man was nothing if not a man of his word. He understood what my father was like. Leng was taunting me the way he always did, twisting the knife more deeply than usual because he knew I was helpless. And there was a perfectly logical explanation for why he was disfigured.

_Just like Niket knew what your father was really like? And the Illusive Man was quite happy to throw your life away on the Collector ship. You don't know a damn thing._

"Go to hell," I said. Or tried to say. It came out as more of a hoarse croak.

"Don't worry. You're little sister is nice and safe with her father on Sanctuary. I'll tell her you said hello when I head over there." He ran a finger down my cheek and his voice dropped to a mockery of a lover's whisper. "Be grateful, sweetheart. In a few minutes, we'll give you more power than you ever imagined. You'll understand everything. You always said you wanted to make humanity great? Well, now you're about to get your chance." His head snapped up. "I'm done. Let's get this show on the road."

He stepped back, letting the light flood over me and drive hot knives of pain into my skull. Beads of sweat formed on my forehead. I had failed Oriana utterly. My little sister was in the clutches of the monster I had spent my entire life protecting her from. And Cerberus had let it happen. More than let it happen. I _had_ woken in Hell.

A lab tech or doctor stepped into view. He was middle-aged with greying temples and a Roman nose that gave him a distinguished air. And his eyes glowed with the same unnatural blue as Leng. My breath constricted and my heart beat faster and faster. What had happened to the people here? They looked almost like husks, but why would we turn our own people into husks? They might be useful as expendable shock troops, but the Illusive Man would have used the conversion process only on those already dead. And husks couldn't speak or carry out complex tasks. What had Cerberus done? What were they going to do to me?

The doctor, or whatever he was, produced a large needle. Thick, silvery liquid. My eyes widened, but I couldn't look away. It looked almost like nanites, the kind we used for-self-repairing drones. My heart pounded even louder. There was no need for this kind of nanotechnology in Lazarus. Played havoc with the implants.

I thrashed again with all my pathetic strength. _No. No. Please let me go._ _I'll do anything you like. Just let me go. Don't inject me._ But the needle came inexorably closer. Caressing my skin now. And then it plunged home. Cold—blessed, sweet, wonderful cold—filled me. Why had I been afraid of this? This was heaven, a release from my physical suffering. My fear had been childish. The Illusive Man took care of his own. This Lazarus was proof of that.

Faint whispers came from somewhere nearby. If I strained, perhaps I could hear them. Invisible fingertips ran gently down my spine, massaging away the tension. I relaxed. The hands were familiar. Small, but stronger than they had any right to be, and rough with calluses born of years of archaeological study. It was Liara caressing and stroking me. That was real. Pain and agony were nothing but illusions. All I had to do was close my eyes, and I would be with her.

_I'll take you away from all this. You saved my life by teaching me to be a broker. It's only fair that I return the favor. Come with me. _

I can't. They took Oriana. I have to get her back.

Liara laughed._ I'm the Shadow Broker. Do you really think Cerberus stands a chance against me?_ Her voice turned pleading. _Come_. _We'll go to some remote colony where no one will bother us. Horizon, perhaps. Just say the word._

It sounded lovely. I could introduce myself to Oriana at long last, and there would be no danger. She wouldn't hate me for what I did for a living. Liara and I could have a real relationship instead of merely a collection of stolen moments. A house with a library where she could study Protheans, and I could ponder the best ways to mass-produce Lazarus tech. In time, decades and decades from now, there might be children. Beautiful blue children with my eyes. The idea was ridiculously pleasing. Greenway said motherhood was denied me? Well, I would become a father instead.

Something nagged at me. There was something that prevented us from having that happy ending. Some duty yet demanded my attention. Something that would destroy us all if left unchecked. Sentient machines from beyond the edge of the galaxy R…Re…Reapers! Yes, that was it. The Reapers had to be stopped.

_Don't worry about them,_ Liara said soothingly. _That's what you brought Shepard back for. You've given one life in service of humanity. You don't need to give a second._

That broke the spell as nothing else could. This creature spoke with Liara's voice and touched me with Liara's hands, but she wasn't Liara. Liara had taken the mantle of Shadow Broker, not for power or wealth, but to help defeat the Reapers. She would never abandon this battle no matter how hopeless it seemed. And she would never ask me to. It was one of the things that so enthralled me about her. No, this was…

_You know what we are. You belong to us now. _The voice was no longer Liara's, but something cold and metallic.

No…no! Cerberus had dedicated billions of credits and hundreds of men to fighting the Reapers. I thrashed again, struggling uselessly against my restraints. My mouth was filled with a silent scream. But even as I struggled, I knew what had happened: I had been injected with indoctrination nanites. Probably the same kind of nanites Saren had used. In a few days or weeks, my mind would no longer be my own. I had been brought back to die.

That was my last thought before blacking out.

"Wake up, Miranda," said a familiar voice. "I didn't create you to curl up and die."

My eyes snapped open. All the fatigue and pain had vanished, and I sprang to my feet by instinct. I was no longer trapped on an operating table, but in a cell approximately three by three meters in size. In one corner, there was a crude toilet. In another, a cabinet. A clear glass door separated me from the rest of the facility. Scientists scurried about their business. And my father stood next to me.

He stood stiffly, his posture painfully erect and his arms folded across his chest. I had not seen him in almost twenty years, but he was exactly as I remembered. The same high cheekbones, athletic build, and flawlessly pale skin. He was as much a mirror of me as I was a mirror of him. His suit was dark and exquisitely tailored to show his features off to their best advantage. The old Earth firm of Brooks Brothers. It was another thing we had in common, that love for fine clothing and the knowledge of how much power the right attire could command.

But something was wrong. The lapels of his jacket were wide in a way that hadn't been fashionable for over a decade. His shoes were similarly out of date. Henry Lawson would never have been caught out of fashion. And time had left no mark on him. This was not my father, but a twenty-year-old memory given illusory flesh and substance. A dream—or another Reaper nightmare.

"Very good. At least your resurrection hasn't addled what few wits you possess. I do admit dealing with your connection to the Reapers by transforming them into a form you can comprehend is quite a novel approach. The devil given a human face. Though I'm what you choose for the incarnation of ultimate evil? Really, Miranda, how cliché can you be?"

I ignored him. If he was just an audiovisual hallucination, then he wasn't worth my time. There were more important things to do. The whispering had stopped, but the Reapers were in my head. I knew what would happen next. I needed to commit suicide before I betrayed humanity. That was the best any indoctrinated person could hope for. The thought did not distress me. I had already died once, and that had been a better death than I deserved. I would never see Liara again and I could no longer protect Oriana. The bed had no sheets, nor were there any knives, razors, or other objects I could fashion into weapons. I felt the back of my neck. No amp either.

"Suicide?" My father snorted. "You're a Lawson. Fight this."

"There's nothing to fight. In a few weeks, I'll be as good as dead." Cerberus would have to let me take a bath eventually. Maybe I could drown myself.

"But in those few weeks, what could you do with the power of the Reapers at your command? Free Oriana from my clutches and give me the retribution I so richly deserve? Take your revenge on Cerberus and destroy them so utterly that not one stone is left upon the other? I'd think that you would want that."

"What I want is my mind." I sat back down on the bed. My limbs felt heavy and tired. I was doomed. Oriana belonged to my father, and Cerberus had delivered her. They had indoctrinated me. The world no longer made any sense. Cerberus had fought for the advancement and preservation of humanity. That was the cause I had believed in and given my life for. And now they were…were what exactly?

"Oh, I think you know the answer to that. Look at them. Really look at them."

I did as he asked. What I saw astonished me. The nearest scientist was a dozen meters away, but I saw him as clearly and sharply as if he had been standing next to me. His eyes glowed with the same brilliant blue I had seen earlier, and silver crisscrossed his face like ropes. I looked at the next scientist. And the next. All were similarly deformed, and none of them seemed to notice. I had seen this before, when I was researching Shepard for Lazarus. "They look like Saren." And that I understood. "We're working for the Reapers now. How? Why?"

"That I can't answer. But, yes, they're advancing the Reaper agenda. You have the power to stop them. Because you're like Saren, too. Stronger, faster, with innate biotics." He said down on the bed beside me. "I won't lie to you. There isn't going to be a happy ending for you. No little blue children or anything else. You're going to die. Do you remember that play I liked? My favorite quote?"

Yes. My father had been mad for twentieth century Earth drama. _The Lion in Winter _had been a particular favorite. "When the fall is all there is, it matters," I whispered.

He put his arm around me in a fatherly way he never had in life. "Well, Miranda, you're falling. What are you going to do?"

"Fight." My eyes and throat burned. "I'm going to fight until this perversion of Cerberus is gone, until Leng and the Illusive Man are dead."

"Good girl." And with that, he was gone.

Power flooded me. I felt younger, more alive, than I had in years. And I could hear the scientists. Not their words, but their heartbeats. I could feel the flickers of their humanity dying as the nanotechnology smothered them. Crying out for a liberator. And I was the only one listening.

But first I had to liberate myself. If the scientists and I had been normal humans, I would have attempted to talk my way out of my prison. It was astonishing how effective merely playing the innocent damsel in distress needing rescue could be. But the indoctrination could have already destroyed whatever chivalric impulses any of the staff here possessed. So, what other weapons did I possess? If the specter of my father was to be believed, I was faster and stronger than ever.

And I had innate biotics. I turned my back to the door and summoned biotic power. Power came, and not the barely noticeable flicker that should have been the maximum possible without my amp. Real power, enough to rip a door off its hinges—or shatter it. I aimed for the center of the glass. It buckled and shattered as it was ripped apart molecule by molecule. Fragments flew in all directions. So terribly unsubtle. Shepard would have been proud.

The sound of klaxons filled the air as red warning lights flashed. My breakout must have triggered some kind of alarm. But the indoctrinated scientists had a moment where they could react with only frozen terror. That moment was all I needed. I leaped for the nearest scientist—a woman around my own age with dark auburn hair—and put my hands around her throat. It was surprisingly easy to snap a neck if you were strong enough.

I was designed to be perfect. Most people took one look at me and thought they knew what that meant. More charitable people would also include my intelligence. But I could be the perfect murderer, too, if the situation demanded. The crack of bones, the way a body crumpled when you punched it in just the right spot. None of them begged as I killed them off one by one. Perhaps they knew it was the only mercy any of us could hope for.

I stood among the corpses for a long moment. Alarms still sounded. Station security would be here within moments. I had best be gone before then. But where to? Where would they expect me to go? The obvious choice was the docking bay and the shuttles it contained. That was where they would set their ambush. It would have to come in time. But first, a stop by the armory was in order. Strength and speed could only carry you so far against guns.

My steps were faster, my footsteps quieter. I had walked through hallways just like this one a thousand times before. Outwardly, nothing had changed. The walls were still a sterile white and emblazoned with the Cerberus emblem. The symbol of all that humanity could be if only we fought for it. This was what the Illusive Man had betrayed. The only question was whether he had ever believed the ideals he claimed to promote in the first place, or if he had merely wanted me to believe he did. Had I been unknowingly serving the Reapers for the last twenty years?

_Does it matter? _my father's voice asked.

No, what mattered was setting this right while I still could. A bit of brute biotic force was enough to defeat the lock on the armory door. Inside was enough weapons and armor to make even Zaeed happy. Apparently, my father's money could supply a private army. I picked a light, sleek looking armor and a helmet with glowing, red slits where the eyes should be. A pistol, submachine gun and omni-tool completed the ensemble.

I was ready to begin the war. Let Cerberus come for me. They had trained me. They had given me the power I now possessed. Even these weapons were theirs. They had created the means of their destruction. There were old friends I knew would despise what Cerberus had become. Perhaps we could form an alliance of sorts. Perhaps they were already fighting. Oleg Petrovsky would never have stood for this. He was the one who had taught me what it meant to be a Cerberus officer, the difference between necessary ruthlessness and the casual brutality of men like Leng. Maybe he could build something new on the ashes of what I would burn to the ground. Assuming he even lived.

And I would die. As powerful as I felt now, I had to remember that power came with a terrible price. The time would come when I was as much a servant of the Reapers as the Illusive Man was. If I couldn't take my own life, then I would find someone to take it for me. And I had just the man in mind. Like Cerberus, I had created the means of my own demise.

I was part-Reaper now. And there was no one better at killing Reapers than Commander Lawrence Shepard.

* * *

><p><em>From here on out, I'll actually be touching on things that will happen in the game. Doubtless,<em> _I'll get things wrong, and I've altered a lot. This story won't be finished by March 6, and my outline will prevail in cases_ _that conflict with canon._


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